Breaking Christmas
by Pashleyy
Summary: Artemis’s grin vanished as he turned his blue gaze to the front again as he began his trek through the hallway somberly. Not a word uttered. Not a breath breathed. This was the terribly lonely power of Artemis Fowl.
1. Concrete Holiday

_**! REVISED !

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The previous version of this story was liked alot--- _loved_ even. So, instead of giving an update, I am revising each of the current chapters. The chapters revised will say (who would have guessed?) 'REVISED' at the beginning.

Why am I revising? It's the simple fact of summer vacation, and I am rereading both this fanfiction, and the books, and I was like "Wow. I just got an idea". Then I banged my head meaninglessly against the keyboard and began editing this story with a straight-forward view of the plot, the people, and the drama.

So, bare with me, reread if you must, because there _will _be a few plot changes. And I might change the title. Keep a lookout. :) Till then!

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Old pre-story comments worth keeping: _Well, since Christmas is coming and all, I thought it'd be a neat idea to incorporate Artemis during the holiday. It's after _**The Eternity Code** _so our prestigious boy genius has forgotten everything of the fairies. But what has the Mind Wipe really taken away? More than a few memories, that's for sure. _

_Enjoy!_

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**Chapter 1 --- Genius**

Patience. Artemis Fowl the Second needed a good deal of patience to listen to the jabbering History teacher. Everything this nutcase teacher could teach him, he very well already knew. In fact, he could bet the Fowl's legacy that he knew almost everything there was to know. And that was perfectly insane since the Fowl legacy meant as much to him as his own life.

It might have even meant a little more.

But this teacher insulted his genius by her small chatter about the odds and ends of myths and legends. Grecian gods didn't exist. He could prove that on seven scientific and researched studies, and that was just off the top of his head! Could the class be any more nonsense?

Yet Mrs. Fletcher proved him wrong when she flipped out a petty book of fairies and assigned them homework. On _Leprechauns._ Could there be a worse use for his smarts? No? Thought not.

No, instead Artemis inspected his expensive oaken desk. Saint Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen had a strict code that had to be followed. Non-toxic markers, mechanical 0.5 pencils, BIC ballpoint pens, crimson and gold uniforms, uncomfortable creaky loafers . . . and the regulated cut-down-the-oldest-oak-tree-you-can-find-to-make-a-desk-out-of-it desk.

What a waste, sincelittle stick figures on the topsidewaged all-out wars with bazookas and rabid squirrelswhile alien races of gumhuddled underneath it --- along with small cheats and on Artemis's desk, the breakdown of the atomic molecular structure. What? No one ever said he didn't get _bored_.

"So I expect a ten-page report on the history of Leprechauns by Monday morning, children!" that wretched whiny voice shrilled.

A measly ten pages? Hardly worth the effort on such meaningless nonsense. Most of the other teenagers in the class agreed with Artemis. Except for the one wise-guy.

"Can we write about trolls instead?" quipped the brash redhead. "Leprechauns are so overrated."

"Nope," Mrs. Fletcher was like a stone wall. She would never budge from her stupid ideas. "Leprechauns, Mr. Knotts, or you will see yourself failing my class. _Again_."

No backing out of this assignment, Artemis grudgingly thought as he tapped his pencil on his desk. Why not the first mission to the moon? Or unspecified life on Mars? Or even an article about Kris Kringle? Those sounded more convincing than Leprechauns. _Everyone_ knew they didn't exist, only a select few idiots still believed in Santa Clause.

So for the next thirty minutes of class, Artemis resulted to staring out the window trying to unravel the mysteries of life --- or more importantly, that looming shadow inching ever-so-slowly to the three interval on the clock. If only the impending threat of a certain holiday was not looming over his head. Christmas.

Why was this jolly holiday so troublesome? Why did this holiday have to be so concrete? So heavy? Busy malls. Rushing people. Greedy children (not like Artemis could confide himself to this). Troublesome traffic and decisions on what locket would look best around Angeline Fowl's neck. There were Aunts who pinched his cheeks and Uncles who showed him the 'ropes' on spitting twenty yards into a pan. Artemis would likely disappear before his Uncle's demonstrations.

Hopefully, his mother canceled the celebrations for this year as well. Maybe. Just maybe.

"Artemis?" the teacher called again, arousing the boy genius from his thoughts. "Child, are you alright?"

Artemis nodded grimly, "I'm fine Mrs. Fletcher."

"Oh, then," Mrs. Fletcher had a special way about her. She knew when people lied. With a crinkly hand, she held the chalk in his direction. "Would you care to point out exactly where Tara is? And label please."

"Yes ma'am," Artemis set down his teeth-marked 0.5 mechanical pencil, pushed his chair back, and traveled down the row of boy-occupied chairs to the front.

Each boy followed with that cynical eye. Each mouth twitched in an anticipated grin. Master Fowl was up to bat, the strange one in the school; the one who sat in the back of the room and wrote in his journals explaining the world while the other boys played games, learned, and laughed.

He was the loner. The one always left to fend for himself.

Artemis picked the chalk from his teacher's hand monotonously, glanced back to the grinning faces, and did what he was told without flaw. And as he wrote, he felt every eye twitch with each tap of the chalk, but he kept himself from squirming. Artemis kept that businesslike composure his father always surrounded himself with.

Even the snickering in the background did not bother him. It couldn't. He was Artemis Fowl the Second, the son of a notorious businessman. (Even if that notorious businessman had grown a heart overnight.)

Then with the relief Artemis had bottled into his chest, the bell rang for school to let out for Christmas Break and the boys thundered out of the classroom into the flooding hallways. Even though the stampede, he heard the whisperings. And held his composure.

As he watched the last boy leave, he finished quickly and handed the piece of scrubby chalk to the teacher. "Your map is drawn off-center, a small fault to be overlooked. I had a problem outlining the exact perimeters of Tara. It might be off by a few centimeters. I hope it will do, Mrs. Fletcher."

The teacher mutely watched the boy walk back to his seat, gather his things, and slip his pouch over his shoulder. His mind ever-thoughtful, and his face ever-expressionless.

This was a true boy with talent. He could do great things in life if he had the motivation. Maybe she should have voiced that more often, maybe she should have told him then and there that he was an exceptionally brilliant boy with a future no one else could have dreamed.

Yet no one ever told him such. Never in his life.

That might have been why as he left the room, he wanted to throw his smarts away. Find a way to lock them up and keep them hidden. What was the use for smarts anyway? Why have them if you could be successful without?

But he couldn't complain. It wouldn't do any good after all.

For he was Artemis Fowl the Second, and no one could change that.

- - -

Artemis treaded from the classroom nonchalantly, not bothering to lock eyes with the other young men. This aroused the question of superiority. Did this genius actually think that he was better than they were? Obviously, said some. Most would go on their business, pretending him to be some harmless specter wandering the cursed hallways. Others stopped and stared.

Their eyes followed him carefully, almost curiously. Did he walk differently? Genius were known to be problematic and eccentric. Did Artemis Fowl have a disturbing fetish? Or was he just another posh, aristocratic mule like the rest of society?

Either way, they left him a vast amount of room in the hallway. They didn't want to contract his brashness. (They had enough already.)

As Master Fowl passed, a black-headed boy leaned over to his friend and whispered loud enough so that Artemis could hear, "See? I _told_ you he walks strange."

The boy's redheaded friend chuckled. Artemis stopped his slow movement and shifted his eyes over to them as the redhead spoke. "You said he walks like a _penguin_, Duke. I think he walks like an ass."

That hit a nerve.

One of Artemis's thin black eyebrows twitched. His blue eyes flashed to the boy coldly, "Darren Knotts, correct?"

The redhead nodded dumbly, baffled that the boy genius would actually stop and converse with 'lower' homo sapiens.

"Utter another word and you will not find your precious tongue tomorrow morning. I promise." He grinned maliciously. Darren anticipated fangs to sprout from Fowl's gums. "So guard it well tonight."

Darren bolted his mouth closed and turned away. He nudged his friend and they kept on turning, down the hallway and out the exit doors.

Everyone knew Artemis Fowl did not joke. He _couldn't_ joke. He meant every word, every syllable, every 'argh', 'hum', and 'Grnaaa!' And he surely had the power to enforce those soft-throated threats. Artemis Fowl did not have a bone in his body that could laugh, joke, or even smile. The bone had broken some while ago, in between the darkened memories he could not place and faces he use to could name, but never remembered.

Artemis's vampiric grin vanished as he turned his blue gaze downward as he began his trek through the hallway somberly. Not a word uttered. Not a breath breathed.

This was the terribly lonely power of Artemis Fowl.

- - -

Darren snickered at the edge of the school property with his friend. He was a rather tall fifteen-year-old with dark red hair and almost black eyes. The Prince of the Prep School. The ruler over all other boys at this academy, and the number one guy to date on this side of Dublin.

He was suave, cool, composed, and almost dirt poor. Everyone wondered how he could afford to go to Bartleby's. It was one of the most expensive schools out there, but he just waved the questions away and told them, "I got a rich uncle, dudes."

"Did you see that Fowl?" Darren snickered as they passed the privacy bushes. "It was _priceless_ how pale he looked!"

Duke rubbed his pinky in his ear, "Hey, I wouldn't be laughing. He gave you a damn good threat. You know _Arty_ and his threats." This young man was also rather tall; a gangly thing with shoulder-length black hair pulled into a loose ponytail and emerald green eyes. Cocky as hell too.

"_Please_, Artemis Fowl the Second couldn't touch a hair on my chiny-chin-chin even if he wanted to."

"Yah, but that butler of his looks _mighty_ imposing." Duke made a rather good point there, but Darren never listened to common sense. No, instead the redhead made a snowball and chunked it across the hedges. Duke turned quickly just in time to see it sail towards Artemis Fowl. It missed. "You need a little practice, Mr. Perfect."

"Like you can do better," the redhead said sarcastically. Everyone at the school knew Duke had the best pitching arm on this side of country. He had transferred over from America three years ago, leaving a life of baseball behind. Darren watched Artemis with a critical eye. "Look at that kid. He has his nose stuck so far up his ass, he doesn't even care. Look at that, getting into his limo already? Aw, such a wussy."

Duke shrugged, "At least we won't have to see his ugly mug for two weeks."

"Pity."

"Not really. Hey, the Girl's School down the street is letting out. Care to grab some guys and perform operation Panty Tank?" asked Duke excitedly. The Panty Tank Operation. Aaah, one of the best boyhood memories. The one sport he could enjoy immensely with the risk of suspension, yet it thoroughly satisfied his fantasies. In fact, he wondered what type of underwear Julia Darlington wore today . . . and how far she would knock him. China maybe? Japan?

Darren grinned greedily, pointed teeth showing. "Ten-four. Operation P.T. is on the way!"

- - -

Slipping gently into the limo, Artemis loosened his crimson tie and leaned over the passenger seat to speak with Butler. The gears in his mind were turning, and the mechanism did not produce heartwarming images by any means. It was doing the exact opposite.

The boy sighed mutely, "Butler, is there any way you can ship me off to America for the Holiday? I would rather be with the crazy Americans than my crazy family. I honestly don't think my cheeks can take another pinching." He rubbed his left cheek, and remembered the gruesome bruise from last year.

Butler grinned, "Sorry Artemis, there isn't a force in the world that can save you from their wrath."

Artemis slightly whimpered and fell back into the backseat. No good in getting out of this year without another bruise, he thought sourly. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. There was a lot to prepare for. Presents. The mall. Family. Dinner. Carols . . . His eyes suddenly snapped open when he felt the barrel of a gun press up against his head. Blue eyes darted sideways.

There was a midget too small to be a midget standing in the seat holding a mean-looking blaster. It adorned a helmet, fine digital gadgets, and the most outlandish tinfoil-looking suit he had ever seen. A new fabric, he instantly realized, and thought it somewhat familiar.

Another little creature held another smaller gun to Butler's head. Strange, usually Butler would see something like this coming. Just that fact made Artemis wary of these familiar strangers.

"Artemis Fowl," the feminine voice said beside him. Alright, the elf beside him was a girl. He could figure that much out. The voice sounded familiar too . . . "Plotting trouble?"

The other creature sneered, his voice also subtly recognizable. "That Mud Boy always gets in trouble."

Did they know him? Of course not! Were they Santa's little helpers? Were his theories wrong about Santa? There was no way. Besides, the creatures helmets said 'LEPrecon'. What a strange name . . . But he felt like he knew the name, and the elf behind the mask.

One thing was for sure, Mrs. Fletcher's theories about little people were coming into focus clearer than he could imagine. A thought flashed through his mind. Of a city. Far below ground. _Haven_.

"What do you want?" Artemis asked levelly as the elf took the blaster from his head. "Thank you, but why are you here?"

Holly was stunned. He was so . . . well-mannered now. Even with that sinister glare and level tone. He wouldn't have said 'thank you' to anyone! Especially her. But oh, wait . . . he had forgotten. Her heart sank a little. This wasn't the Artemis she knew. Back to business. Her tone became laced with the mesmer. "We are here to check up on you Arty."

Artemis's eyelids drooped and he nodded like a bobble-head doll. Butler's eyes did the same, but he fell unconscious before Arty even succumb to the totality of the magic. Then finally, those intelligent blue eyes dulled to a beak, uninteresting black.

Holly almost felt sorry. "Now, Artemis, can you tell me what you have been plotting?"

"My mother's Christmas present," he replied levelly. "It's suppose to be a locket." Sleepily, he took a velvet box from under his seat and opened it. To Holly's surprise, it wasn't anything extravagant. Just a little antique locket, opened to reveal Artemis Fowl Senior, and Artemis Fowl Junior. Though, the pictures were all smiles and grins. "She's wanted one for years. It is very old and my father's picture and mine are in it. I hope she likes it."

"Anything else?" Just a locket? C'mon, Artemis had to be planning more than that!

"And . . ." a slight hesitation. It must have been a darker secret. Usually the mesmer never let a subject slip unless it was indeed deep. Very deep. Holly waited with grinning anticipation. " . . . And how I can be like everyone else."

Holly's grin faded within a moment; her heart almost stopped in its spot. She wished now with all her might that this conversation had not been recorded. It would embarrass him so much to know that the whole LEPrecon squad would hear this and ask in shock and laughing amusement as they celebrated the demise of a great mastermind, _Artemis Fowl the Second wants to be normal?_ "Why?"

"They stare," his voice would have cracked if it held emotion, "they gape, they marvel, they whisper under their breaths and grin. I don't care, for they are juvenile boys, yet so am I. Why can't I ever do that? What's the use of being a genius? There are more cons than pros, and I am sick of them. I don't want it anymore. Take it away."

For a moment, Holly stood in silence as the mesmered Artemis stared placidly at her with those eyes that lied to so many people. Artemis Fowl normal? Could it be so? Holly could not imagine it, she liked Artemis the way he is --- or _was_ before his Mind Wipe. Artemis Fowl was always as clear-headed as a sun-shiny day. She had to wonder as she spoke into her microphone, what caused this juristic change. "Heard that, Foaly?"

Silence. "I believe we have . . . sufficient evidence that Arty is not up to any foul things. Leave, and wipe, and report to Commander Root pronto."

Holly clenched her fists. She couldn't stand those navy eyes impaling her with nothingness. There was no spunk. There was no arrogance. There was nothing . . . and there was nothing before the mesmer took its hold.

The old Artemis had truly and undoubtedly been washed away. Forever.

"Foaly . . ."

"It's not our business what happens to the Mud Boy, Short," Root cut in abruptly. "Mind wipe and get out. That's an order."

"Yes sir."

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Fwhaaa! So, did you like? Yes? No? Maybe so?


	2. Shattered Ornaments

**_REVISED!_**

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Well, revision number two! Things have been added. Things have been deleted. Orginal character changes, and better vocabulary usage(ish). And chapter name changes. Whoot! Enjoy!

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Chapter 2 --- Detours

"Oh Artemis! I'm so glad you're home!" The delightful woman embraced her son warmly at the doorway. Artemis stiffened slightly in her vise-like hug. "It's been so _long_!"

"Oh Artemis! I'm so glad you're home!" The delightful woman embraced her son warmly at the doorway. Artemis stiffened slightly in her vise-like hug. "It's been so !" 

"I've been gone for eight hours, forty minutes, and thirty-three seconds, mother," Artemis corrected and closed his heavy eyes in drained relief. For an odd reason, he had become peculiarly sluggish since the car ride. It must have been his mind, Artemis concluded, as his mother released him and smiled warmly, outstretching her elegant arms.

"I know! But I can't get enough of you. Merry Christmas Arty!" Angeline's smile seemed flawless to her son, a star in his darkness. A smile like every other normal person in the world. He doubted he even owned such an ornament.

Though, even as he denied his own smile, he did accomplish a fake one to please his mother. He would always wear it to please the ones he held dear, even when it wasn't his. "Merry Christmas, Mother."

Angeline, approving of the message, flocked to another corner of the house, calling to Juliet to bring the garland and wreaths. The Fowl Manor would be festooned with cheerful ornaments yet again after a three year retirement. The boy had a rather annoying hunch his Father had set to work to bring in the holiday cheer again. Artemis was just getting used to not having Christmas too.

He especially got use to not having his cheeks pinched by those ghastly Aunts.

As Artemis stepped into the house, greens and reds glimmered on the stair railings and drooped from the white-plaster ceiling; red socks cluttered the fireplace and smooth jazzy Christmas music hummed softly from the speakers in the living room. With a shuddering sigh, he halted himself from leaning against the newly-painted doorway and marveled in distant abhorrence.

He didn't belong here now either.

Reaching his study, he closed the door behind him and caught a scent that perplexed him. It struck a familiar chord, but he couldn't quite place it. The gears in his mind wound and clicked again. Within moments, he had concurred it was a set of five candles with the smells of Evergreen, Bayberry, and Cookie Dough wafting from the right corner of the room where an unusual light cast a warm, fuzzy glow upon his sharp black computers and desk.

The young Fowl groaned. He should have known.

Juliet probably did this. She would be leaving in a few weeks to flock off to a wrestling academy in Mexico. Even if he wouldn't admit it, Artemis would miss her homey touch. It's exactly what he never wanted.

As he reached the corner table with the candles, his eyebrows furrowed in vexation. He even guessed the scents right with the correct number of candles. He didn't even have to think either for the answer; it came naturally. He hated it. Rolling his fingers over the flames, his mind reminded him of the percent of rate at which his skin burned; how much carbon dioxide secreted from the oxygen-guzzling flame; the degree at which wax melted . . . and many other monumental textbook facts.

A normal kid would have screamed 'Ouch!' and retracted his or her hand, but not Artemis. At this amount of flame, his skin would only darken and become coal in color. It would not harm him, even with the slightly burning sensation.

Besides, pyros did this all the time. Maybe he should take up an eccentric fetish, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he already had one.

He just forgot about it.

"Why do I remember everything but _that_?" he asked to himself, quite annoyed. So annoyed, in fact, that he put every homey glow out one by one with each of his five fingers. Juliet would pout later and call him a 'meanie', but Artemis found that he didn't care.

In fact, he found that he didn't care for a lot things these days. He knew the signs from the countless physiologic books he had read and feared for his immediate future. "Every little thing I know doesn't help me. If it did, why doesn't anyone say so? Parents are suppose to be proud of their children, but someone else could acknowledge me."

It fumed him to think that everyone hated him for being smart. They must've, or they didn't give a hoot. He doubted anyone outside the family even cared. So what if there was one less genius in the world? No big loss there.

No one would need _his_ help for anything. No one ever did ---

_Artemis straightened his school tie. "I see. Now, how can I be of service?" _

_"What makes you think we need help from you, human?" growled Root around the butt of his cigar._

A nervous jolt sent him careening into the candles. He staggered to stay on his feet, but another jackhammer burst into his brain, and he fell to his knees. Another roar of voices thundered through his ears. So many familiar, so familiar he could ---

_"But if you want my help, I will require something in return." _

"What exactly?" said Root warily.

"I need transport to Russia," replied Artemis. "The Artic Circle, to be precise. And I need help with a rescue attempt."

With those last words, the jackhammer suddenly stopped. He knelt on his knees, gasping for a breath he hadn't taken in a while. What was that? Memories? How?

More importantly, who needed his help . . . and who's help did he need in return? Did he actually, once upon a time, help someone? Did someone in that long-forgotten memory help him?

"Of course not," he stood himself and brushed invisible dirt from his gray pants. Why would anyone help him? He wiped stray tears from his eyes and composed himself. "Get a hold of yourself, Artemis," he said to himself. "You're not a child."

Yet he might be crazy for talking to himself.

The door was soundproof, not even the Butler could hear him in here. The metal was made with aluminum and poly---

Artemis covered his ears as if to stop his thoughts. They wouldn't stop. The gears ever turned and the chains ever rustled; they pulled ideas and broke open theories. They searched like probes each second unraveling time and space . . .

It would never stop, the gears were bound to click until he was dead. This was fact he could not persuade or shift. And he hated it. He hated it all.

As he drew his hand to his eyes to begin to hush the gentle throbbing in his head, he couldn't escape the gently prying facts ushering themselves into the crevices of his mind . . . and the tactless whisperings of the kids in the hallways.

And those memories . . . the ones that came in flashes. The ones that he knew held some secret --- some way to cure this disease he had inflicted upon himself.

----

Holly Short entered _Ops_ slowly as the gentle hum of the whizzing gadgets hissed at her ears. There were beeps, dings, and taps from these amazing machineries that greeted the Capitan with alertness for their master's lack of.

Holly took a deep breath, "Hello Foaly," she tried to smile, "got all that on record?"

Foaly stood tapping away noiselessly on his keyboard, unlocking the mysteries Holly didn't even want to start to consider. After a moment, he answered, "Yes, it was recorded. I took the liberty of destroying it." He turned and smiled sympathetically. "I don't think Arty would have wanted us to keep that one anyway. Bad conversation topics, you know."

The elf's shoulders shook gently as she dropped her head. Foaly found tears escaping the young elf's eyes.

"Now, there's no need to cry ---"

"Who said I was crying?" Holly asked, drying her tears, "I want to know what's up."

"Well," Foaly hesitated, "we have a slight problem. Forget about Fowl for a moment. We need to concentrate on other bigger problems. Like Opal Koboi."

"What about her?"

"She's gone. Vamoosed without a trace from Howler's Peak. How, I have no clue. Haven't been seen since Haven. We believe she escaped to up above. Dublin, Ireland actually."

"Where I just was?"

"Right."

"That's bad."

Root appeared in the doorway, "No, that is not _bad_, Short, this is horrendous. You have a new mission. Since you know Dublin so well, I want you to find her and report back. No ifs, buts, or _detours_." Commander Root knew exactly what Holly was thinking. "I heard about Fowl. It's bad, but this is worse, so get your mind on track and forget about him."

"Yes sir."

Root also very-well knew his top elf couldn't just forget about a Mud Boy who had kidnapped her, worked with her, and then befriended her. He didn't think any elf could. It was something about that kid. Something special. "What are you waiting for?"

"Gone, sir."

----

Artemis slipped from his study quietly, locking the door with a deadbolt and a key. Safety of his studies were top priority --- well, semi-top priority, next to his plans of course. Blisters begun to bubble upon his fingers from the fire. It was a stupid idea to touch the candles. So stupid. He stupidly stuck the worse finger into his mouth to make it pain soften and started down the hallway. Butler materialized from the shadows, carrying a huge bundle of lights.

"Artemis ---"

"Nothing's wrong," replied the boy as he attempted to ignore his guardian. "Burnt my fingers, that's all."

Butler didn't try to object. If Artemis didn't want to talk about something, then he would keep his mouth closed until Dooms Day. He let his charge pass before he retreated to a spare bedroom where he hid the retarded lights that wouldn't burn. Mrs. Fowl gave him the duty to fix them. It had been a while since he had worked on a series circuit. He just hoped he wasn't too rusty.

Artemis sighed in relief as he turned the corner and stepped scruffily down the stairs. Then came the fall.

With a slip and a yelp, the usually gracefully boy tumbled down the twenty feet of red-velvet stairs, trying to grasp to anything that could stop him. And within moments, the boy genius had landed at the bottom in a shameful, deranged heap of garlands, lights, and mistletoe.

Things were just getting better and better.

Hearing the disastrous noise of heavy thuds and curses, Angeline Fowl raced to the bottom of the stairs to only stand and bring a hand to her forehead in a mute sigh.

"Artemis," she groaned, trying to hide a laugh, "what am I going to do with you?"

If Artemis had never been mortified in his life, he sure was now. Tripping down a flight of stairs that he could climb when he was three? He knew precisely how wide each stair was too. How humiliating.

Slowly, he unraveled himself from the heap, he stood and brushed himself off. Strange, he usually had close to perfect balance. Well, maybe semi-close to perfect balance. His mother picked a small strand of garland from his breast pocket.

"Why do you still have you're school uniform on, honey?"

"I haven't had time to change, Mother."

She shook her head and straightened his tie, "Well, at least look your best in it! Oh, and try not to trip again." She handed him a navy hoodie. "It's cold outside. Put this on. It matches your eyes." Her son took it reluctantly and slipped it over her head. "And do be careful."

Artemis's eyebrow twitched as he hopped from the coils of decorations around his feet towards the door, then turned to his mother; the ornamental smile adorned his face. "Yes Mother. I'm just excited about the Holiday is all."

His Mother smiled in return, "I am so glad honey. I am so glad we can celebrate Christmas normally, like we used to. Everything is back to normal, right Arty?"

A tinge of sadness. "Yes Mother." He hated lying, especially to his wonderful Mother. The truth was, everything was far from normal. One day he was himself, the way he knew, and the next he was like this. Melancholy. He had performed numerous researches on why and how this mood swing occurred, but it all added up to a blunt nothing. _Nada_. Every text he referred to was insufficient, and every Physiatrist he called held the same phony answers. They didn't know either. "I will be back later."

When he slipped outside, the frost nipped at his nose as the unsettling feeling of watchful eyes rested on his cold shoulders.

----

Duke muttered curse after curse to the young woman marching proudly beside him. Her hand was the one imprinted on his left cheek. He had been glaring to her for the past ten minutes, and wasn't about to give up when a tree branch smacked him on the other cheek.

The young woman was pretty, no lie. Almost angelical, if he didn't know better. Julia had a picturesque figure, finely manicured nails, and delicious lips. She sported her long dirty blonde hair in a messy bun, but it looked like she wanted it that way, and her sky-blue eyes bore into Duke's skull like a pair of lethal laser beams.

A rip separated the back of her regulation plaid skirt where the Panty Tank had been.

They walked along the tree lot fence towards the main strip mall where they had made arrangements to meet at Goldstone's Sandwich Shop with a horde of other teenagers. The roads were barren due to the newly fallen snow that froze the streets and covered the sidewalks.

"I hate you, you know that?" Julia Darlington growled. Her hands held the blue plaid skirt together at the ruffles. It was hard since she, along with half of her friends at school, had carelessly hemmed their skirts up short enough to make the hot-under-the-collar Principle call a school-wide assembly on the matter.

"How was I suppose to know you were wearing a thong?"

"You weren't and never was supposed to!" She whacked him beside his head with her palm. "You little perv!"

"We already told you sorry." Darren glanced behind him coolly, a smirk across those cattish lips. Even though he told Julia sorry, he didn't exactly mean it. "Oh, come on you two. Julia, you know that it wasn't the first time it happened. Okay, first with a thong but you should have been ---" snow splattered into his face. Classic. Wiping it away, he spun to his front where a gang of kids stood with snowballs. Kids from a public school. "You punks! I outta ---"

The first kid made a puppy-dog face, "Aw, is the wittle preppy boy gonna beat me up? No! No! Don't beat me up!" He was over-dramatizing. Darren's face soured. "Aw, you don't like the jokes? Then do something about it Prep."

The redhead narrowed his eyes sadistically, "I might just do that."

"C'mon, you wuss!" The second kid laughed. "C'mon, let's see if that school of yours showed you how to hang with the big mommas."

Anger built up within the teen and he clenched his fists, eyebrow twitching in suppressed rage. Julia caught his hand and held gently, forgetting about her skirt. "Forget about those idiots."

Duke took that moment to bend back for a second look. Julia kicked him blindly in the shins.

"Don't do it Darren. They just want to try and get you into trouble. Let's go."

"_Ooh_, are you going to listen to that bitch?" Another boy asked, cracking his knuckles, "A real man wouldn't hold back. C'mon prep, show us whatcha got."

Both Duke and Julia grabbed a hold of Darren's arms before he could lunge at the punks, and held him sharply.

They didn't want to see a fight today, not on their first day of Christmas Break anyway. Those kids were bad news from the start. They would be bad even if they went to a private school. For once, Darren listened to his friends and held back.

The gang of juveniles began to laugh. Darren Knotts never walked away from trouble. No one was around, they wouldn't see, besides his friends, but they knew.

His friends knew a deeper secret than anyone else. And his friends knew from that glint in his eyes that they were about to hold their tongues on the secret again.

"Don't kill them," Julia advised before the redhead spun back to the punks.

Those punks didn't look so cocky now.

They didn't even know what hit them before the strange redhead surfaced upon them, hands outstretched for a fight. The strange part? He was flying. With two sets of dragonfly wings on his back.

The first boy didn't know what hit him, because Darren executed the move as fast as his Uncle had taught him. Grabbed the Mud Boy with two fingers under his chin, heaved him up, and sent him flying into a pile of snow.

Then the next one came, but the redhead dodged that one too, did a roundhouse kick, and sent him flying into a trash can. Three left, two disposed with a simple magic that sent them careening into the air, and into the pine tree lot.

The last boy, the one that had called out to Darren first, stood quivering where he stood. This guy was flying --- he was actually _flying_! With wings. Fairy wings. And his teeth were sharp, his ears pointed --- and his eyes filled with black. Completely and utterly black.

"Oh God!" the kid shouted. "Don't hurt me!"

Wicked with delight, Darren shot forth again but finally landed on the ground with when his best friend tackled him. The hybrid tried to squirm up, but Duke held fast and secured him in a headlock. Julia motioned for the last boy to shoo.

"Go, now! If you don't want to end up like your friends."

The last boy ran for his life, and from upon a building, two curious eyes glinted at the redhead's peculiar talents.

Julia turned and found Darren struggling in Duke's grip. "Let go of me!" he hissed. "I wanted to ---"

"Dude, knocking one out was enough," Duke motioned to the unconscious boy groaning in the snow. "You didn't have to do it at all. Do you really want to hurt everyone you come into contact with?" When Darren tried to punch Duke, Duke weaved away and cuffed his friend on the side of the head. "Calm down or you'll hurt us too."

At this, Darren did calm down and begin to breath again. He let out a heavy sigh. His ears were normal again and his eyes were placid. No sign of wings either. "Sorry, I must have forgotten myself for a moment." Duke let go and grinned, as did Julia --- until an interesting sly voice interrupted.

Then all hell froze.

"What are you?"

The trio turned. Before them stood the infamous Artemis Fowl in a dark blue pullover.

"Fowl?" Darren croaked. Oh no, now he would be sent to a science lab and tested. He just knew it. Or at least that's what his father said when he sent his son away from Haven. His father had told him about Fowl, and how much of a nuisance he was. Even his Uncle advised him to steer clear of this awful Mud Boy.

Artemis stepped over to the snow-covered kid and pried his wallet out from the kid's dirty jacket. He never wanted anyone to realize he was mugged, but then again, anyone could prominently tell by the bruise ripening around his right eye. He counted the money within and then, finding the fair sum he had before, slipped it into his back pocket. "Yes, it's me, Darren Knotts, right?"

Damn, Fowl _did_ know his name. That was worse. Science experiment life, here he came. "Why are you here?"

"I came for my wallet. That was a nice trick of disposing them. How did you do it?" His voice was so calm, Darren could tell that he knew something. Though, the rumor was, his mind was Wiped. That was true. It had to be.

"I learned the trick from my Pops," that was true. "It's nothing. But what is a git like you wandering the streets without your precious bodyguard?"

Artemis stiffened. "I wanted to go alone." Why were these kids asking, anyway? Would they mug him too? His rational side doubted it, but he could never be too sure these days. "Why are you all out?"

Duke answered lowly, "Because we wanted to. Is there a crime in that?"

"No. I just asked since you three seemed so interested in why I was out."

"And we just answered you smart-nosed b---"

"Stop," Julia commanded. "Both of you, stop." She glared to Darren and Duke. "He's just walking and will be gone soon, right?"

"Yes, if all affords well on my part," Artemis said and brought his hands into his fleece pockets. It had oddly grown cold all of a sudden. The draft from the north must have arrived, Artemis thought absentmindedly. Soon the roads would not be accessible at all.

"Then please will you leave us in peace?"

Artemis grinned, tapped the toe of his loafer on the pavement, and began on his way again. He tried not to look at them, or the pretty female with them, but his eyes did wander as he passed her. "You need to address your skirt."

Julia blushed and quickly closed her skirt back up. "Perv!"

"Perv?" he stopped, stricken with horror. "What do you --- I didn't look at anything."

"_Sure_," she rolled her eyes. "That's what they all say."

Artemis, in turn, mockingly rolled his eyes and traveled on. "Sorry."

They glared back. When he disappeared into the steadily drifting snow, the two boys allowed their jaws to drop.

The redhead stood at a fault. "Did he just say _sorry_?"

Julia nodded, "Yes, and I don't see what's so wrong with him." If they didn't know better, they would have thought she was grinning with _delight_. "Why do you hate him so? Both of you?"

"He snobby," Duke answered.

Darren narrowed his eyes, "He almost destroyed the peace between my Father's kind and my Mother's. He is also held accountable for arising hatred towards Mud People such as you both."

Julia sighed, "Did you witness it?"

"I heard from a birdie."

"Well, maybe that birdie was wrong."

----

"Did you see that?" The woman in red crooned from a perch among the buildings. A raven sat on her shoulder. Her newly adopted pet of choice. "This is better than I would have imagined. Artemis Fowl doesn't know of fairies! That Foaly screwed up this time! This is too good to be true."

The man beside her sighed, "I guess. Pity though," he took a cigar from his white tuxedo and lit it, fitting it gently between his lips, "because now, I do."

With a hand resting on her raven's head, the woman laughed elegantly and stood from her building-side seat. Her lean figure shone in the essence of the malevolent, sly beauty. "My dear Jon Spiro, how ever did you find us?" She asked sarcastically.

"How did you take on the appearance of a Human, Opal Koboi?" He puffed a ring of smoke and barked a laugh. "A feisty one at that."

Opal shrugged foxily and crossed her lets, letting a pale limb show from the slit at the side of her long evening dress. She had taken the appearance of a lounge singer. Carla Endwick of Germany. Her hair was cropped into a tight bun and her lips were lined with poison red lipstick. Not her cup of tea, but it would do. Besides, she'd like to see the LEPrecon figure out her identity now. "Do you really want to know?"

"Unless you would like to give me all of your wonderful secrets, my lady." Like a charming prince, he kissed her gloved hand. "Would you?"

"A hologram." she replied. "It can do the same for you, which means you can penetrate into Haven without flaw. We can combine our knowledge and understanding, machinery with logic. Nothing will stop us. Not even Artemis Fowl."

"Haven is ours," Jon Spiro smirked. "Merry Christmas to us. Should we start our busywork?"

"Why not?" Opal laughed. "It might be the best time. I suspect you know what to do?"

"Of course."

"Then the closest shuttle transport is in near the strip mall. Go, and remember what I said to do. I'll begin here. I think that young lady will do quite nicely, don't you?"

Jon Spiro looked at her somewhat baffled. "But I thought we were only going for Artemis Fowl?"

"We are," she replied, "but he needs a cell mate, doesn't he?"

* * *

Fwha. The evil chapter of doom. No, not really, right? Right. :)


	3. Christmas Letter

Wow! It's been so long! Guess y'all thought that this story was dead, huh? Most of this was written last Christmas, but at leastI finally got off my royal ass to fix thesmall specks I didn't like and a few other things. It just in need of a bit 'o magic, and a little bit 'o inspiration.

Well, **it's back**!

So, sing those carols! Call out that holly! Light that therecandle! Fix up them therelights! It's time for another dose of that holly jolly Arty-infested Christmas!

Not to be taken lightly either . . . poor Arty!

And yo, I know that the Opal Deception contradicts everything here now, but bear with the old Pash-can tradition of the last two chapters and throw the rule-book out the window with following sequals, cause Opal's different, and there's no way I'm changing this plot now!

Enjoy: )

* * *

**Breaking Christmas  
**_Chapter 3 ---- Christmas Letter_

Holly watched cautiously from a far bush as Artemis Fowl encountered his own kind and took his wallet back. Humans even fighting amongst themselves --- and a halfbreed. A mere half-sprite. Darren Knotts as Foaly informed. Dangerous creatures. Holly could see why. They were unpredictable, uncommon to their magic. She had to feel sorry for him too.

But, she had to follow Fowl and follow she did. Shielding, she flew from the bushes and hovered above the boy. She had been shocked how much he had changed in a six month span. She hadn't gotten a good view yet, but knew that he would have said a whole lot more if the true Artemis had been there in front of the trio of Mud People.

"Foaly," she called into the mike. There was an annoyed answer.

"What?"

"How long has it been since the Mind Wipe?"

"Seven months and twenty six days, forty-two minutes and three seconds to be exact --- wait, now seven seconds. And aren't you supposed to be looking for Opal?"

"Smart-ass."

"Ooh, such a mouth. Something bothering you Holly?" Foaly's voice grew soft. This when the elf knew there was not another soul in Foaly's workplace. Usually, Root or Trouble would butt in at this moment and say 'Back to work Short!', but Foaly was different. He had been a good companion to share her troubles with since she had arrived on the LEPrecond squad. "Is there?"

Holly sighed, "No, because as you said, _Who could be friends with a viper_? I . . . have to agree." She searched for the words with difficulty. So close to a friendship . . . so close.

The centaur sighed into the microphone. "And I don't take that back. It was duty. You know as well as I that the Mud Boy is better off not knowing us." There was a slight pause. "Think of it this way Holly, if Haven was ever in trouble by an outside source, Arty-boy would have been the first to fall because he is a Mud Man and knows where we are. He could have easily jeopardized us and you know how he makes his deals. Doesn't care about anyone but himself --- and his family. Did you really want Haven to be in jeopardy for as long as he lived?"

"No, I suppose not." But would he do that? After the Mafiya and Jon Spiro, Holly doubted it. Though Foaly knew more about the Mud Men physiology better than she did and he was probably right. He was always right.

Suddenly, Artemis stopped short and glanced up directly to Holly as if to find something. There was nothing to find to his eyes. Searching keenly, he probed the sky for a moment then shrugged it off and continued his trek around the block. He zipped up his fleece fully and shivered. It was getting quite cold.

Screams and gunfire erupted from the block before and Artemis spun on his heels. He could recognize the voice easily, his mind registering instantly who they were. It was that girl, Julia, and those boys, Darren and Duke. To Holly's surprise, Artemis began amble towards the noise and then, as if with an idea, turned into the Tree Lot. She followed, disobeying orders, landed in a thick grove of trees and unshielded to save her magic. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

"I thought someone was following me," Artemis stepped from behind a tree enigmatically, almost appearing from the shadows themselves. He had been watching Butler for way too long, Holly thought in mild surprise. "What are you? A dwarf?"

Holly puffed out her cheeks angrily and drew her Neutrino 2000 from her holster. "An Elf actually, Artemis Fowl." Her narrow eyes met his for a brief moment and then she lowered her weapon distinctively. Holly Short hardly ever lowered her weapon on a Mud Man. "I won't shoot if---"

There was another scream and then the two boys cried after her, then the screech of wheels against the pavement and the slam of a door. Within moments, Artemis had glanced at Holly directly in the helmet lens to her eyes with a made decision and ran. Holly, of course, shielded and followed.

The men working the lot turned to find a boy high-tailing it through the rows of pines towards the entrance. They didn't know a git like him could run that fast --- and stumble that frequently on the ice.

"Well, will you look at that Bob," the first man said, tipping his hat up to catch a better glimpse of the ice-tripping boy, "We got a show 'ere. Maybe 'e can do a ba'kflip for us."

The second man laughed as the boy slid and ducked a lazytree branch, "I don't think that git has it in him."

Artemis skidded to a stop and sighed gratefully, stepping onto the concrete in relief. Solid ground. Thank God. Holly crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. Impudent Mud Man. Sauntering towards the scene, he examined the peculiar sight before him in mild interest. Rather interesting to tell the truth, he was already wondering what had happened to these poor folk. He wasn't worried --- just wondering. Darren knelt on the ground, one hand covering a bloody arm. He was cursing up a storm. Artemis frowned at the language and eyed the other boy. Duke was flat on his face with a bloody nose, also swearing loudly. Then things began to get rowdy.

The redhead, on instinct, glanced back to Artemis and snarled, "You! You must have done this!" He stood. "You took her! You must have!"

Artemis blinked in slight confusion, fake of course.

Tears wield into Darren's eyes, "Just when you disappeared, they took her! You must have been in on this --- you must have!"

Blue eyes met black. "Do you really think that I stole your girl? Open your eyes. I was on the other side of the lot."

"Then you commanded someone to! There's no denying it! You've been wanting to get even with me ever since you got it good at school! Serves you right you arrogant ass---"

"Listen," Artemis shot him a glare that would make even hell freeze over, "if I wanted payback, I would have gotten it sooner than now. I am not one to wait." Every word was crisp with venom. Detached and void of any emotion. "So open your impudent little eyes and look around you. There are a million buildings here that could have hid your so-called culprit ---"

"Then your beefy manservant did it! What was his name? Meatloaf or something?" Darren clenched his fists, "But you did it! I know you did you---"

One thing was for sure, Artemis Fowl did not like to be interrupted, for his words were colder than the last. "Stop your juvenile squabbles because I don't see a being alive here that is listening to you run your damn mouth. How in the hell do you think I could have set this up at all? And why would I? Frankly, I even don't have those answers because I know that I wouldn't kidnap your girl. If I _would_ have, you would have been without a limb _and_ a girlfriend." He paused for a shaky breath. "Now do you want my help or don't you?"

One could have heard a pin drop; even Foaly listening in from Holly's helmet held his tongue.

Darren blinked in surprise and let down his guard, "What? Come again?"

The boy genius smoothed out his hair and took a deep breath. "Those tire marks are from a Ford. The tractionof it, seeing that there isn't a whole lot of skid marks, was minimum. That means it was a new car ranging from 2003-2005 model. By the amount of black rubber, it was rather light also, meaning that it was a light car. That narrows it down. It must have been a Ford Mustang, 2004 to keep the model at a safe range." He paused so both Darren and Duke could register the information. "As I said, do you want my help or don't you?"

With his mind working faster than his mouth, Darren stood mouthing a few words for a moment before shaking his head somberly and pulling himself up straight. "I don't _want_ your help, Fowl."

Artemis began away.

"_But_, Julia means the world to me, and I don't want her to die."

----

Foaly drummed his fingers on the keyboard thoughtfully, listening to the occurring conversation. Fowl wouldn't have done that unless he was incredibly stupid, incredibly bored, or just plain desperate. He hoped it wasn't the first or last.

"Holly, can you follow them?"

Static. "I thought you said that I needed to get back to my mission."

"You do," Foaly said exasperatedly, "and you are doing that now. I have a feeling that their connected."

"And how is that?"

"Call it a centaur's intuition," Foaly laughed, "and the wonders of my cranium." Two words. _Pompous Mule_. "They must be related."

Holly frowned on the other end, "Sure, but you're taking the blame if Root finds out."

"Fine. Fine. But I highly doubt that I am wrong." Foaly's mind was working overtime. So many possibilities to the riddle --- and so many changes in Fowl. It was baffling. If he could have, he would have done both at the same time. Which one to work on first? The Artemis Fowl Files or the mission? Why did he even have to think about this?

Popping open a book on physiology, he slipped in the disk of Fowl's memory he had saved and began to search. There had to be a way to help old Arty, Foaly knew there was. But if it was restoring his memory, that would be a whole new game to him. Root wouldn't approve at all. Clipping his heels, he cut off his viva phone to Root and began his research. This was more fun anyway.

----

'05 Silver Ford Mustang

Julia screamed again in the car as they hauled ass down the road as fast as the Mustang could gallop. She couldn't believe this --- a perfect girl like her was being kidnapped! Why did it have to be her --- why! A woman in red laughed beside her and gagged her instantly.

"Now now, we don't need your big mouth screaming the whole way to the hotel," the woman tied the gag tightly and shoved the girl back into the seat. Jon Spiro glanced back in his rearview mirror and grinned. "Jon, we can stop speeding now, she won't say anything else, will you girl?"

Julia, eyes wide with horror, shook her head frantically and gulped. Oh how she wanted to just scream right now. Just to scream. First her dress was ripped and now this! Duke would pay dearly for this . . . Duke and Darren both!

The car slowed to a stop beside a drop-off box and the woman glared at her driver wearily, "What are you doing? One of Foaly's cameras are around here!" Her voice was almost a shrilling shriek. Julia could tell she had lost her composure a while ago. Something was going astray.

Spiro, still grinning, took an envelope from his breast pocket and slipped it into the mail box. "I'm sending a letter to Fowl. You know that disk you copied for me of Arty-boy's memories?"

"Yes . . ."

"I've designed a special contraption that let's our dear Fowl recall everything he's lost right when he opens the letter. He'll have no choice." He closed the mailbox and began to drive away.

Opal became very rigid, "Why?"

"My dear," Spiro looked through his rearview mirror again, grinning, "it is no fun to have a nemesis who can't even remember you. I would like to kill him when he's on the top of his game, not on the bottom."

"This seems too simple for you Jon. Won't the information be to much for even his brain?" It clicked. She was catching on slowly. Julia on the other hand, was frightened, clueless, and had to pee _really_ badly.

"As I said, kill him while he's at the top of his game," with this, he slipped sunglasses over his eyes and drove with an eerie silence riding in the car with them and the tension just from the name Artemis Fowl.

_Continue: Yes? No?_


	4. Dead Lights

Alrighty! Another update, what, two months after Christmas? I don't know about you, but I believe that Arty can be savored all year around! So, after another chapter so lovingly written, I bring to you another drama-lific chapter of **Breaking** **Christmas**!

Thank you everyone, for putting up with me and my prolonged updates. : D

Anywho, enjoy!

**

* * *

**

_Breaking Christmas  
_Chapter 4 --- Dead Lights

**One Day Later**

Darren and Duke sat on the comfy couch in the living room of the Fowl Manor, watching Artemis pace back and forth between the coffee table and the huge evergreen in the corner. There was barely room for an angel on top of the Christmas tree, but Mrs. Fowl had made it work. Oh how she had made it work! With the beautiful silvers and golds surrounding, with great ornaments and shiny, twinkling lights. At the moment, Juliet was humming while she flung the light onto the tree decoratively. One could tell she had a natural knack for decorating like that. The lights seemed to fall into place as she hummed, but Artemis hardly noticed this, he didn't even notice her leave. In fact, he scarcely noticed anything at the moment. Nothing could shake him from his utterly deep and impassive thoughts.

Well, _almost_ nothing.

"Arty!" Mrs. Fowl called, prancing into the room in an extravagant evening dress with fur at the collar and ivory at the cuffs. She looked extraordinary in it. Simply marvelous. "There's a letter here for you," she handed him the letter and spun around proudly, "Do you like it honey?"

Artemis briefly grazed his Mother's dress and attained the ornamental smile once more. "It is beautiful, Mother."

"I'm glad you agree! It's for the ball we're having. You know that ball we used to always have during Christmas? I'm doing it again! It's wonderful!" She noticed the two boys staring profligately and gasped, "Oh! Arty! I didn't know you had friends! How embarrassed I am! Oh well, welcome. Make yourselves at home."

"Yes ma'am," both boys replied in chorus.

Mrs. Fowl patted the two boys on the heads and practically skipped out of the room; she would have actually skipped if she had not been wearing four inch stilettos. Wonderful lady --- a little too energetic at times, but a wonderful Mother for any genius, for he'd have to agree. Angelina Fowl was amazing.

Artemis flipped the letter over and began to open it, and insipidly wondered who it was from.

Holly hovered near the angel, outside the window beside it, and watched Mrs. Fowl prance about in her gown. It was very beautiful --- the dress she meant. The woman could afford a face lift sometime soon, but she looked beaming in the dress and Holly was rather happy for her. Holly then turned back to Artemis and proceeded to watched him open the letter.

Foaly came into her ear loudly as if in a sudden rush, "Don't let him open that."

Holly jumped from fright and squeaked, "Why?"

"It's from Spiro. I was looking back over the films a moment ago --- and don't let him open that letter! Anything from Spiro is bad."

"How did he get out of jail?"

"Broke out. How, no one knows. But I have a feeling Opal is behind it --- but GET THAT LETTER!"

Holly promptly started for Artemis and then stopped suddenly with a gasp as two beams shot forth from the envelope into Artemis's eyes like arrows. "D'Arvit. Too late."

---

Artemis opened the letter blandly. He wondered mildly who it was from, but it was probably from the school about the next courses he would take. Blah, Blah. Nothing more. In fact, he could have opened it later if he wanted. Flipping the back open, he suddenly gasped. There was a silver ---

It were as if a million spears suddenly impaled him when blue lasers shot forth through the contraption and froze him to the spot. Glued him to the ground. His whole body shut down; breath halted and muscles stiffened. It were as if he was impaled by the memories themselves.

Flashes. So many flashes. Images. Were they real? The Book. The People. Trolls. Butler. Artic. Mafia. Opal . . . Opal who? Haven. Root. Centaur . . . Foaly? Underground. Shuttles. Dead. Spiro --- Jon Spiro. C-Cube. H-Holly . . . Holly Sh --- Short!

Artemis wanted to scream in pain. It hurt --- it throb like hammers in his skull, smashing anything it could come into contact with. The images filed into other memories, jamming together like uneven puzzle pieces. It destroyed what fragility he had in his mind as the thoughts and visions brought the boy's psyche into breakdown. Overload.

Dropping the letter, he stumbled backwards with his hands clutched to his agonizing, throbbing head. Tears brimmed at the corner of his eyes and flowed unevenly. In the deafening throb of the pain, he didn't notice himself screaming, cowering in his own ache, nor Darren calling wildly for Mrs. Fowl, or Duke trying to pin the genius down on the couch. Instead, Duke was knocked in the nose by a flailing elbow and sent sprawling to the couch himself. Artemis didn't hear, feel, or see any of this, until a single image floated through his chaotic mind.

"H-Holly," he croaked dryly. Darren's ears perked at this, then he flew towards the double doors, begged Mrs. Fowl for forgiveness, and slammed the doors in her face, promptly locking them. Artemis again called, "H-Holly!" A fairy could not penetrate into a house unless the owner welcomed them. It was in the Book. "Holly Short!"

Darren's attention darted up to the window as an elf flew through the shattering glass to Fowl. His eyes widened. Holly Short. How did she get here?

Holly zipped to Artemis and put two hands to his forehead. She felt the static within her build and the magic flow to her fingers. It had been a long while since she had felt this rush, this thrill she could only find around Artemis Fowl. And as she uttered the magic under her breath, she knew this was the beginning of another adventure. That familiar static crackled over her skin. "_Sort_."

Darren suddenly ducked under her and pressed a hand against Artemis's chest, the familiar magic welding inside himself as well. "You forgot another thing Holly! _Breathe_!"

Two jolts erupted through Artemis Fowl at once. A dangerous combination that sent him flying backwards into the fifteen foot pine, and land with a low _thud_ on the ground. A strand of lights flopped from the limbs and attempted to take out the unconscious boy below. Luckily they were the strand Butler tried to fix. Note _tried_. Ornaments cracked and shattered beside him, porcelain keepsakes broke, and the angel, perched at the top, toppled to its doom. All missed Artemis, except one; the glass angel. Its shards dug into his hand, a puddle of blood formed underneath.

Holly glared down to Darren and puffed out her cheeks, "I could have done that."

"Yeah, when he turned blue."

Duke had by now ripped open the letter and began to read it. A quirky smile wound its way onto his face. "I think I know where Julia is."

"Where?" Darren asked.

The black-haired boy flipped over the letter with a raised eyebrow. The return address was plastered on the side. Careless --- unless it was on purpose. "Right here. The Lighthouse Hotel in Wexford."

"Then let's wake Fowl up and head there," Darren said with a deep sigh, then turned to the Captain, "Say, why are you here in the first place? The fabled Captain Holly Short of the LEPrecon who fought against and with Fowl in three special occasions, always managing to somehow cost the whole of the LEP a lot of money, especially my Uncle."

Holly blinked, "Your . . . Uncle?"

"Step-Uncle really," Darren admitted. "You know him as Commander."

Holly's eyes were the size of saucer plates.

"Yep, that's right. Julius Root is my Step-Uncle."

----

Angelina Fowl frowned as the unruly young man slammed her own beautifully crafted mahogany doors in her face. A pout formed on her tender lips as she turned to leave. Teens will be teens, she had to remind herself while she pranced into the kitchen.

Butler sat at the kitchen table, drinking a steaming cup of green tea. An open book of _Guns Today_ in front of him. He looked up to Angelina and bowed his head. "You look lovely in that dress, Mrs. Fowl."

Mrs. Fowl blushed. "Why, thank you Butler. Isn't it?" But her smile couldn't mask her worry. "I think something is wrong with Arty."

"So that's the noise," the muscular man mused softly. "Don't worry about it Miss," he told her. "Nothing will happen to Artemis without me knowing."

"I hope so," the elegant woman replied, putting a finger to her chin. "But I can't help but think that he's not telling me something. Do you think?" She sat down beside Artemis's bodyguard and grasped his meaty arm tightly. "Do you know anything that I don't?"

Butler shook his head gently, not really ready to say what he was about to. "No, and even if I did, Mrs. Fowl, it's up to you to find out what you believe is bothering Artemis. He is, if I dare say, you're son." With that, he went back to reading about the new Magnum and something about hand-held lasers. Boy, how old _that_ news was.

As he reached for his cup of tea again, he paused. Angelina left the room in a slouch, clicking up the stairs in her expensive heels. That didn't bother him as much as what he just thought.

Hand-held laser guns old news? How? He'd never used one --- in fact, he'd never even seen one . . . or had he? A low rumble came from his chest, "_Artemis_ . . ."

Standing, he folded up his magazine, emptied his cup of tea, and retreated to his small room in the Fowl Manner where he pulled up the camera screen from the living room, slipped on his headphones, and studied intently as he rewound and watched as a small creature came in, sparked something in his charge, and sent him flying into the Christmas tree . . .

---

Deception.

Darkness.

Death.

These are what the shadows foretold Artemis as he lay on the red couch unconscious. And of a fragile smile, an ornament broken but repaired by the loneliness each morning. Was it his? It must have been, who else could have such a life?

No one but him.

Being a genius? It has its perks. Being a wonderful son? No problem. Being a teen trying to find his place? Harder than anything ever before. Trying to fit in? Why would Artemis Fowl want to fit in?

To try and find himself within others, he prospected. All his life, he had realized he had been no more than a second Artemis Fowl. His father had accomplished everything he had --- well, almost everything. But the fairy expeditions weren't anything to be proud of. His Father was a Jack of All Trades. He was good at everything and here was little him, walking in the greater's shadow.

He was a fool to believe that he could have ever been more than his Father. Of course he loved his Father --- he loved him more than anything in the world, but trying to extend his own shadow greater than his father's was a difficult job to accomplish.

In Artemis's mind's eye, he was just a clone, a fake to his father's status. He would never earn respect. He would never earn anything of the sort.

A damp washcloth pressed upon his forehead and slowly he opened his eyes to meet Holly's face head-on. She was standing on his chest with a washrag. Cocking a hand to her hip, she snorted, "About time, Fowl."

The boy groaned and sat up, toppling Holly to his feet. To Holly, in the seven months since she'd seen him, he had grown about four inches --- or close to it. Growth spurt of course, and he also must have had an urge to let his hair grow a bit, for now it was a loose and shaggy black mop --- refined of course --- but still a mop. He squinted to her before regaining his focus and shook his head dizzily.

"Mm, what happened?" He asked rubbing the back of his head. It felt like a Christmas light had poked him there or something. With that same hand, he found it bandaged. Although he couldn't place it, a hollowness unrecognizable sat in the back of his mind.

"Well, you opened the letter and then a blue laser shot into your eyes and then you remembered what the Mind Wipe took away. Welcome back," Holly said shortly and stood at the edge of the couch.

"Yes yes, but then what?" There was also a lump at the back of his head and he winced when he found it. "Ow, what did you do?" The hollowness wasn't familiar by any standards. It was different. For the first time, he felt sluggish. So tired.

Darren cleared his throat to get attention from Artemis and to tell that he was still in the room, along with Duke. "That's what happens when two fairy's magic collide within one body. Boom."

"Ah," Artemis said lightly and stood when a wave of dizziness passed him. He found himself flopping back onto the couch, rubbing the bridge of his nose. One thought at a time echoed through the crevices. There were no whispers from hidden intelligences in his brain, which was strange, and when he tried to even put a little effort (a little effort on his part is like solving Einstein's EMC2, which is already solved anyway.) it caught his brain on fire and made it pound and throb and do other nasty things headaches did.

Then he realized the problem.

Holly looked worried. "What's wrong Fowl?"

Artemis stiffened considerably, traveling his eyes to anything he could calculate or understand. Nothing came to mind when he remembered that he used to know what current the Christmas lights lit with, how many electrons buzzed within the whole line of lights at once . . . how many cells were in a---

A startling pain darted through his skull. He had gone pale. "Oh God." Standing, he stumbled around the couch and into the foyer, where he ran up the steps, skipping two steps at a time, and raced into his computer room. When he sat down to reformat the computer, as he did every evening when he booted his PC up, he found that his fingers wouldn't move. His mind was blank.

Holly walked into the dark room and watched the simmering candles in the corner, then turned her eyes to Artemis. "What's wrong Arty?"

"I-I can't think," he responded numbly, staring at his twitching fingers.

"What do you mean you can't think?" Holly ventured. "Are you scared?" No, that couldn't possibly be it! Artemis Fowl was never scared! But he was shaking. And pale. "Artemis?"

The teen slowly turned his swivel chair around to stare at Holly, a friend. An ally. "I don't know," he finally whispered for the first time in his life. He had never said those words. They were absent in his vocabulary until today, until just a few minutes ago. "I can't think. I don't know anything."

Holly thought for a moment, then gasped. Could that blast have . . . "You mean you're not a genius anymore?" Artemis shook his head. "Are you sure?" Artemis nodded. Holly pursed her lips. "Then we have a problem."

Artemis again nodded, not knowing what else to say. All his life he had knowing everything, absorbing everything with the slightest of ease. But now, it was hard to process anything. Hard to understand the words that he spoke and once understood to a T. He actually had to think about it now. He had to think of what to say when he said it and to whom. Most importantly, he had to re-understand everything again at a teen level. That was scary.

Darren came up behind Holly with his arms folded over his chest. He was talking to Duke until they entered the room, then both fell silent. The acclaimed genius was shaking like a leaf in an autumn breeze.

The red-head frowned and shushed his friend from snickering. "Yo Fowl, what's wrong?"

"The blast locked his brains," Holly replied.

"What?" Duke asked.

Darren understood perfectly. "She means that our friend here isn't a genius anymore, just a regular teen with a regular mind. The blast shook the smarts out of him."

"More like locked them," Holly replied, which was really a reply from Foaly, who was equally surprised and perplexed. "Fowl, can you talk?"

"Of course I can!" Artemis spat, disgusted and frightfully confused. "I'm not as dumb as an ape if that is what you mean!"

"Can you walk?" Holly asked, equally rhetorical.

"Yes. How else could I have come up here?" Artemis gripped the armrests stressfully. He was trying to calm himself down, and it was actually working. No use in getting into a fuss about this. It probably wasn't permanent. It would wear off soon --- hopefully. He was fine. Great.

Completely and utterly scared in a world he once understood right down to the atoms beneath his feet.

"Then you're normal," Holly said. "Foaly says its not permanent and we have to get going before that mud-girl becomes food for the sharks down in Wexford."

"Wexford?" Artemis echoed. "What's in Wexford?"

"Their hidey-hole." Duke grinned, examining the rich normal boy up and down thoroughly like a shark would his prey. "But I don't see how we need you now git, you're just a shadow."

That sent a sting down Artemis's spine. "A shadow?" His face darkened. A shadow towered over the two boys in the doorway. They turned to meet the Eurasian Butler. He smiled, and cracked his meaty knuckles. Both boys stiffened. "Butler, did you catch all if it?" Artemis asked quietly.

The Eurasian nodded gravely without saying a word.

"A shadow then." Artemis thought for a moment. His father's shadow was bad enough, but a shadow of himself? A double-KO. "Fine. I can be a shadow of something else too," he finally responded. "But that doesn't mean I'm out of this. Whoever wanted me to regain my memories wanted me dead."

"How do you think of that?" Duke snorted.

"How else?" Artemis picked at his pants leg. It would take a while to get used to his slower thinking, but he couldn't hardly remember the time when his thoughts were as quick as lightning. It was strange. "Why else would they go through all their trouble? One knows that if they want to defeat their enemy with a little fun, their enemy has to be at their peak."

"But you're not," Darren reminded.

Artemis grinned. "They don't have to know that, do they?"

"No," Darren admitted. "Then lets get going. Wexford here we come."

"Wonderful, car rides." Artemis retorted.

"What? You don't like to travel?" Darren asked.

Artemis narrowed his eyes at redhead, "Add this up Flamer, I am --- was --- a genius who works in a dark room filled with close to 20,000 rams of information. Of course I hate car rides!"

* * *

_Continue: Heck Yea/ D'Arvit! No!_


	5. Christmas Melody

Alrighty. Another chapter a few weeks before the Europe release of the 5th book! Huzzah! Wow, I'm getting behind, aren't I? Lol.

Well, here's another heart-warming Christmas Special in July! Merry Un-Christmas!**

* * *

Chapter 5 --- Christmas Melody**

"_City side walks, precious side walks. Dressed in holiday style._"

Artemis groaned, taking the cool wash cloth off his forehead. Not another Christmas song. Fourteen were enough, but now this? It was the worst. His mother played it over and over, he knew every note, beat, tap, chime, and word of this confounded song. And that said something since he wasn't a genius anymore. "Can you _please_ turn that confounded drabble off!"

"Why?" Darren asked, humming along with the music. "I like it."

The raven-haired youth rolled his eyes. The Flamer was just doing that to get on his nerves, he knew. Even that he knew without his ingenuity. In fact, he confessed that he still knew a lot of things, most were typical, juvenile things, but he knew them. He knew things that he thought he wouldn't without his smarts. Fate seemed to have a different plan. His memory was still excellent, his eyesight sharp, his accent clever, and yet he felt as dumb as a primate.

Holly looked over the young Fowl. "You're quiet."

"I always am," Artemis replied, sitting straight in his seat. Searching through a stash of goodies he kept below his seat, he froze as he realized that most of the things inside he didn't know how to work. Most required manual codes written in, large sums of numbers to unlock them, or godly computer skills. He had none of them. But at least an IPOD didn't require too many neurons.

Sticking the earpieces in his ears, he scrolled down the list of songs until Coldplay came up, and then sank down in his seat again to listen to 'Clocks'. His peace of mind didn't last long.

Duke looked over to Artemis with a sneer, then jibbed Darren in the ribs. "I'm surprised he knows how to work an IPOD, the poor sap."

"Shush you," Darren scolded after a few laughs himself. "It's not his fault that he's forced to rise up to our level." Artemis quirked an eyebrow to the two young men. "What you looking at, Arty?"

"Two stupid dogs," the raven haired youth replied, turning the volume on his IPOD up so it drowned out everything except his own sloth-like thoughts. After the song ended, he scrolled over to Weird Al Yankovich. It had become an affinity to listen to strange, outlandish songs by this strange man. He had developed a taste for it over the past several months, and now that he had 'risen' to the level of 9th graders, he didn't feel like dirt while listening to it.

Especially _Your Horoscope for Today_.

Sullenly, he turned his eyes out of the window, to the green sloping hills of Ireland and the grassy outcrops. Windmills wove and swooped in the distance, herds of goats roamed each little crest, and quiet, quaint old men rode by on bicycles, enjoying the wonderful weather. At one point on their journey, Butler took a detour through a small town. It was one like Mrs. Fowl collected in miniature porcelain houses. A beautiful little town with quiet people. Artemis envied them, their carefree life, their bright smiles. Maybe they could train his smile to be as bright as theirs . . . maybe then he could please his mother.

"Fowl? _Listen_!"

Artemis snapped out of his awkward trance with a sharp gasp, Holly coarsely pulled the earphones from his ears. "Oh, what?"

With a sigh, the elf rolled her eyes and tapped her watch. "We're almost there. Get with the program please, we're not asking much from you, you know."

He smiled crudely, remembering when they had first entered the limousine. Holly had told him straight-forward that he wouldn't do anything, but didn't dare to say the reason why. He knew why. Everyone knew why. Who would profit from a regular rich Irish boy, besides investors, banks, salesmen, and stockbrokers? Holly had told him repeatedly that he was only coming along for a rouse, just to say that he came, as live bait so to say. Just as bait. Artemis hated the prospect. He felt useless, more-so now than ever.

With his thoughts set aside, he nodded to the elf. "I know."

"Okay, glad to see you listening," Holly said some-what gentler. Either she felt sorry that she had said the former so harshly, or she was ashamed that a normal mud-boy rode in the car with her. "Here's the plan . . ."

And Artemis tuned her out. Not once would she say his name. Not once would she mention him in her ingenious plan. She didn't, he knew, and suddenly felt a longing to jump behind the wheel once more and take to his drawing board. To take to his plans, his schemes, his outrageously entertaining exploits . . .

Artemis sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool window. No plans for him. No parts to play here.

_"Memories, Christmas Memories, they're the sweetest ones I know . . ."_

He wished the radio would die.

And in that moment, static filled the limo.

No one seemed to notice except for Artemis and his life-long friend, as he soon found out when the Eurasian glanced into his rearview mirror to his charge. Both nodded quietly and began to take precaution. It could have been the unseasonably rainy weather they had suddenly bumbled upon, but Artemis doubted it, and if any of the other occupants would have been paying attention instead of fussing over who would stay with the rich kid, they would have noticed it too.

It wasn't just the radio that had gone quiet --- oh no, that would have been too convenient --- the whole countryside sat in a puddle of brackish, deathly silence. Like someone had plugged everyone's ears with cotton, then pulled a blanket over the hills and crests.

Artemis didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. That was why he resorted to climbing over the quarreling occupants, through the limousine window, and into the front seat. If he stepped outside, he feared something worse than silence might strike.

"What do you think it is?" Butler asked calmly, although the teen did find him reaching for the magnum at his belt holster. "A trick?"

"Too well-planned. Keep driving." He didn't want their guests to know about this silence until the last possible second. Partly because it gave Artemis a sense of ingenious, but it would later hurtle those thoughts into utter stupidity. "I'm sure it's nothing."

The Eurasian frowned. "I doubt it's nothing Artemis ---"

"I said," his charge interrupted coolly, "_keep_ _driving_."

Against his own regards, Butler kept driving, yet slower than before, eyes as sharp as arrows, taking in every upturned turf of grass, every root, every disarrayed rock. Just in case something would spring out, would catch them off guard. His charge did not notice.

Or if he did, this new Artemis didn't care.

Both sat like stone for a while until the squabbling in the backseat turned into an uproar, with shoes flying and fists waving. Hopefully, the would never know, and as Artemis rolled up the window to the back, something indeed waddled out from the crests and hills. Something small and insignificant, but Butler stopped anyway.

"Isn't _he_ always on time?" Artemis frowned and unbuckled his seat belt, finally feeling the coast clear as he stepped out of the black limousine.

In front of the car stood Mulch Diggums. He held his hat in front of him innocently, and grinned up to Artemis like an old friend. But if Artemis would have known better, he would have known to stay in the car.

Because that dwarf turned his backside to the car and lowered his flap. Artemis ducked behind the car just in time. Dirt and grime rained down from the sky, and Butler clicked his windshield wipers on.

"Great," Artemis grumbled, flicking the clomps of dirt from his blue hoodie. "That's all I need now."

"What you rightfully deserve, Artemis Fowl!" called Mulch. "Selling me out! I can't believe you!"

Wait. Someone sold Mulch out? Standing again, he brushed a piece of grass from his hair and asked, "_What_?"

Mulch buttoned up his flap and rolled his eyes. "What what _what_ --- you're the genius, you figure it out!" When the boy stared at him blankly, he responded, "You told LEPrecon about me! My whereabouts you filthy human!"

"Filthy?"

"Well . . . you know what I mean! You're the only one who could figure out where I was! How many gold coins Arty? Huh? I hope it's a lot, _D'Arvit_ you!"

In defeat, the teen held up his hands with a shrug. He honestly had no idea what Mulch jabbered on about, but the silence still plagued the countryside, and it got quieter each moment. Mulch also felt uncomfortable, because he squirmed and plucked at his wiry beard. "Alright," the boy sighed, "I honestly don't know what you're talking about, but can you get out of the center of the road? You're an inconvenience."

That was the wrong thing to say to a dwarf. "Inconvenience? _INCONVENIENCE_! I'm not the one who rooted a fellow ally out of hiding! What would you do if you had the whole squad on your tail when ---"

"Mulch," the impatient boy growled, fists clenched.

" --- when you're sitting on the toilet minding your own business when wham! They come barging in and you have to escape by digging through the _sewer_! ---"

"_Mulch_."

" --- oooh, and that ain't all! Now I travel halfway across Ireland and here you are trying to run a poor dwarf over! I see how you play, Artemis. A backstabber, aye? That's all you filthy mud people do. I've lived with 'em enough to know ---"

"_MULCH_!"

"What?"

Artemis wanted to strangle the dwarf, but instead, the silence got to him so fast, his ears popped, and his sight went gray. That impounded silence brought him to a crouch, and churned inside his head, that quiet dull gray head of his, and filled it with fuzziness.

"Arty?" Mulch asked, looking oddly to the squatting boy with hands clasped over his ears. "Mud boy?"

He didn't respond to any of it, he just kept his ground. It was all he could do until his ears finally popped again, and his vision colorized. But by then, the peculiar headache erupted into a savage pounding worse than a migraine --- as if his a giant ogre slowly peeled off his forehead.

The ex-genius finally dropped to one knee.

Then did the silence begin to make its appearance. Small, slithering silver coils crept up behind the dwarf, and hovered like a striking cobra. Swaying back and forth, back and forth as if it sized the small dwarf up. Artemis shot his eyes up and said in a grunt, "Run."

Mulch Diggum was dumbfounded. "What?"

So the next best thing to do was to grab him by the closest thing to Artemis --- his beard --- and swing him into the car. Artemis took little time in opening the door, he just flung the dwarf inside as fast as possible. Then did he himself step into the vehicle. But he couldn't close the door because he wasn't fast enough. Steel slithered up his foot.

"Artemis," Bulter said fatherly, "close the door."

The poor boy looked so pale as the little thin wire inched itself up his leg, poked around the skin on his knee, and dove into the warm flesh. "I can't." He gritted his teeth so hard, a filling cracked. The pain was almost as bad as his headache. Almost. Yet that headache proved to be useful, it let him think. "Remember that taser in the back seat safe?" he asked the Butler.

Butler nodded, slowly moving his eyes to his charge's leg.

The wire began to slither its way under the skin, up to the inside of his thigh. Artemis tried to show composure. If they didn't do something soon, he could wave goodbye to passing on any of his genes. "Get it and pull up my pants leg. Now, please."

The Eurasian rolled down the window to the back seats and snappily ordered Darren to unlock the safe and hand him the taser. The Flamer did with the question why, but the Butler didn't answer. Darren handed over the taser to him, who in turn reached over Artemis's lap and pulled up his pants leg.

The silvery wire swirled up the teen's leg, up to his knees where it punctured the skin bloodlessly, and disappeared. Though Butler had an idea where it ventured to as his charge grew more nervous, clutching onto his seat painfully.

"Now Butler," Artemis commanded through gritted teeth. "Right _now_."

So Butler charged up the taser and stuck it to the wire. Electric jolts hopped through the wire, up and up into the flesh where it sizzled the skin and into the blood and bone and muscle. With the painful jolt, the leg gave a kick and Artemis bit down a horrible scream. The taser had stopped the procession of the wire, but it didn't take it out.

"Okay," his charge said, swallowing blood from his bitten lip, "pull it out."

This the Eurasian did with care, then bandaged Artemis's knee up tightly. His leg was numb, as was his hip and most of his right side, but it worked, and silently Artemis congratulated himself for doing something right. Then he looked around for Mulch, and found him gorging through a package of potato crisps.

Artemis tried to sound professional, but he came out sounding like a seriously injured teen with a higher-pitched voice. "_Who_ in God's name told you to suspect _me_! And what the _hell_ were those---those _things_!"

It was easy to tell that Mulch knew the answer, and his squabble with Artemis was just a rouse.

"How much did they pay _you_, Diggums?" Everyone who knew Artemis wasn't one to lose his cool very often, but being attacked by an unknown thing and almost having his manhood taken away would put any self-respecting male in a bad mood. "Two million? _Ten_?"

"Err, ah ---" Mulch gulped down the rest of the potato crisps before he answered. "You see, this pretty lady gave me twenty million ---"

"_Twenty_?" Artemis reasoned. "Is that worth your _life_?"

On queue the Eurasian picked Mulch up by his collar and held him up tightly. There wasn't a way in heaven or hell that dwarf would be leaving the Fowl limousine any time soon.

"Is it?"

"Well, ah, you see . . . I'm broke. And I thought Opal could ---"

"_Opal_?" Artemis didn't believe his ears, and neither did the other occupants spying on them from the back seat. Holly hovered just over Artemis's shoulder. "Opal paid you."

"No."

"So who ---"

"Jon Spiro."

Artemis's eyebrow twitched. "Jon Spiro?" Mulch nodded vigorously. "Ah. And what were those wiry machines? A new invention?"

"Straight from development. Spiro's done the works, mudboy. Everything. Funded and all. Stole fairy technology, he did."

The interrogator glanced to Holly for backing, and the elf nodded, hand on her earpiece as Foaly spoke through it. "Says a few things were stolen. Nothing groundbreaking."

"Then what did that to my knee? Don't tell me living machines are ---"

"Wait," Holly held up a hand. "Foaly says those weren't machines. The spindly things? He made them himself, his latest invention in finding lost items. Artemis, there isn't a way Opal or Spiro could have made those. Are you sure it was ---"

"Holly." The boy closed his eyes and tried to calm down. His mother always warned him about his temper sometimes, but now that he didn't have his genius backing him up, it flared out of control worse than ever. Maybe some of those breathing exercises were needed, but he wouldn't give them the time of day right now. "I might be stupid, but I am _not_ witless. And tell Foaly I did see those wires, and tell him that they do not work."

Holly looked at him blankly, and clearly on the other end of the receiver, Foaly did the same. So Artemis explained it properly.

"I haven't _lost_ what it was searching for!"

Then did Holly blush. "Oh. Well, he said there also --- umm --- they can be also used to find things in general. Foaly says they're very useful."

"Useful? Oh yes, tell him there are so useful, I wouldn't mind him trying them out _himself_!" The teen spun back around in his chair and locked his side door. "Butler, lets get going again before it comes back."

Darren and Duke grinned from the back seat, "You mean before they find out that you haven't been whacked?"

"Shut it!"

While the teens began to bicker again, Butler --- being the most mature and somewhat reasonable one out of the bunch --- went on with his own business and started the engine again, put it in gear, then began to drive.

The limousine gave a start, throwing both the teens in the back and Artemis frontward. At least Darren and Duke had nice cushioning when the car jerked. Artemis had a dashboard and glass.

He thumped up against the glass and silently cursed. "Butler, tell me the car didn't stop."

The manservant tried the limo again, yet this time it didn't even budge. He looked out the side mirror to find silvery wires wrapping around the tires, and slowly inching up the door. On Artemis's side the wire tapped the window and began to scratch.

"Butler!" Artemis yelped, scooting into the center.

"Get out," he growled. "Sunroof."

"Run for it!" He couldn't hardly believe his ears. If he needed his brain, it would be now. Right _now_. But didn't just a few days ago he wanted to be normal? Well, if this was normal, he hated it. The fast heartbeat, the uncontrolled thoughts --- the utter _fear _of helplessness. "How ---"

From behind, Darren grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "We go up, genius," he pointed to the sunroof. "C'mon." But Artemis was somewhat numb from the waist down.

"Dude," Duke suddenly grabbed Artemis's arm and heaved him helplessly through the window. "Remember the No Man's Left Behind act? Yeah, we're enforcing it. _Go_."

So Artemis went, halfway numb, through the sunroof and onto the hood of the car where he found the extent o the damage to be horrible. Those silvery wires twisted and turned upon the car. Opal and Spiro must really hate him, but who could blame them?

If he had the choice, he'd hate himself too. Well, sort of.

Instead, he reached back down into the sunroof and yanked Holly up after him, Darren and Duke took Mulch as they surfaced, and Butler remained to be seen. Until, of course, he kicked open the driver's side with force and told them to run for it.

Then did Artemis run for the second time in his life. He ran so fast, even with his numbing leg, that it was hard for him not to trip on his own shoes. And then, farther down the road, there was a red corvette, a man leaning on its hood, looking rather smug.

"So," said the finely dressed man, "you managed to escape? How like you, Fowl."

Then Artemis back-stepped in fear for the first time in his life.


End file.
